


Needle!Verse

by loveinadoorway



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: BDSM, D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kinky little verse about sex, pain and tattoos. Darker than my usual fare, maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The lure of the needle

**Title:** The lure of the needle  
 **Paring:** Steve/Danny  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 1078  
 **Warnings:** Sex, tat kink **  
Spoilers:** None  
 **Disclaimers:** So very definitely not mine and boy do I wish I could make money off them.  
 **Summary:** A kinky little pwp about sex, pain and tattoos. Darker than my usual fare, maybe.

Am somewhat prolific today, sorry about spamming you, but this just happened... to me. LOL! 

He fingered the scabs gently, almost reverently.  
Time to put some ointment on them, maybe.  
He took a moment to recall how it had felt.  
Intense, white, hot pain, that’s the outlines.  
Low, steady discomfort, that’s the shading and the details.

He craved the pain.  
Couldn’t get enough of it, wanted, needed the feel of the needles piercing his skin. He knew enough about addiction to understand what this was. He kept going back regardless. 

The ornaments grew steadily larger in size and even Danny had noticed that Steve's tramp stamp had vanished under a brand new layer of something altogether different and oh so much bigger.

Pain was clean, easy.  
It went past all the complicated shit in his life. It went past Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and the impact that stupid shit still had on his current situation. Past his father’s death, past the investigation that threatened to go nowhere, whenever it didn’t look like it would take him straight to hell.

Pain was the great leveler.  
Anything beyond the moment, anything beyond the pain itself became irrelevant, petty, almost ludicrous. And when the pain was gone, he was free. At least for a little while.

Steve uncapped the lotion.  
A hand took the bottle from him, squeezed some out and started to spread it gently over his most recent tattoo.  
His breath hitched slightly.  
Danny.  
What was he doing here? Hadn’t Steve locked the door to the men’s room?

“A talented four year old can open that door with a paper clip, Steven,” the Jersey voice said calmly, breath playing across Steve’s right ear. He could feel the heat emanating from Danny’s body. The other man was standing very, very close.  
“You want alone time to play with this shit, you have to go elsewhere, McGarrett.”  
Danny’s capable, slightly calloused hand rubbed ointment into his tat, in gentle, circular motions.

“Why do you keep getting more, Steve?”  
There was no accusation in the voice, just curiosity. The body that was almost flush with his own was taut where it brushed against him. 

Steve was aroused, couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the small moan from escaping from his lips. 

He looked up, saw the both of them in the mirror.  
Danny’s face was intent, eyes boring into Steve’s across the washbasin. Steve couldn’t hide what he felt. Naked and raw, the need played over his features. In the mirror’s reflection that seemed alright. It was almost as if he were watching a stranger.

Danny inched closer.  
Steve could feel his partner’s erection nudging his ass. Wrong way around, usually, yet right way up right now. He needed to be used, taken. He needed to relinquish control.

He needed someone to do for him what the needles did. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body left uncovered and it would happen soon, at the rate he was going right now. He needed for someone to be his great leveler, to take the weight off Steve, to put the weight on himself, maybe. Like in the song.

The thought made Steve chuckle briefly, before he leaned against Danny, slowly rubbing his butt against the shorter man’s cock. Edging him on. He looked in the mirror again, nodding slowly.

Mirror Danny’s breath hitched at that and his hands went around Steve, slowly working on the zipper, pulling out Steve’s straining erection, tentatively running the palm of the left hand along the length of it. So gently stroking him.

Steve hissed. No, not like that.  
“What is it, Steven?” Danny’s voice was deep and dark. His lips brushed Steve’s ear, then his tongue darted out, licking along the inside of the conch.  
“Need…”

So hard. So hard to put his need into words.

“Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.” Mirror Danny looked sincere and aroused at the same time.

Steve just stood there, helplessly rubbing himself against the man behind him. He had never been good with putting his emotions into words. His father hadn’t encouraged it and the Navy sure as hell hadn’t, either. He had kept it all locked up inside of him for the better part of his life. His dance with pain and his infatuation with Danny, none of that had ever been intended to see the light of day.

Now he tried very hard to explain himself to the man whom he had, for lack of a better word, pined for these past months.  
It was so hard to find the right words for this.

“The pain… when, when I get a tat.”  
“Yes, Steve, what of it? Tell me, please, baby.”  
“It makes it all go away, Danno. The… everything. I… I can’t…”  
“It’s okay, I think I understand.”

The hands went to the front of Steve’s cargo pants again, opened the button and pushed it down, boxers right with it. The hands then grabbed the bottle with the lotion. Steve braced himself against the washbasin. 

“Is this what you need, baby?”  
The voice was so very gentle, but the intrusion very much wasn’t. Steve grunted, gasped a yes and let the feel of Danny’s cock impaling him take him to that calm place that only the needle could previously.

Danny was pounding into him relentlessly, setting a grueling pace. Slamming into Steve’s prostate with every stroke, bottoming out with every stroke. Steve was loving every second of it. It was raw, it was beyond intense and nothing, nothing at all mattered anymore.

When orgasm took him over the edge and down into the abyss, he smiled.

“Can we just please not do it in the office john anymore, baby? Standing on tiptoes wreaks havoc with my game knee.”  
The usual light undertone was back in Danno’s voice. That was okay. Steve didn’t need for his partner to analyze any of this, didn’t need any gestures, any shit that didn’t mean anything in the end. He knew Danno understood. He had seen it in the other man’s eyes as they met his in the mirror. That was all that mattered.

He rocked back against Danny. Anywhere his man took him would be okay. And any old how, too, for that matter.  
He had found himself a new needle, bigger and better. It took him places the vibrating ones of countless tattoo artists had never shown him.  
Their eyes met again in the mirror.  
Steve nodded, then the other man behind him was gone as quietly as he had come.


	2. The voyeur of utter destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Lure of the needle. Danny sees, Danny understands and when his partner is in need, Danny acts. But Danny doesn’t KNOW. And that needs to be remedied.

**Title:** The voyeur of utter destruction  
 **Paring:** Steve/Danny  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 1977  
 **Warnings:** Sex hinted at, kink, D/s **  
Spoilers:** None  
 **Disclaimers:** If they were mine in any way, I wouldn’t be WRITING porn. Just sayin’. Title and quote is from the Bowie song Voyeur of utter destruction.  


Research has pierced   
All extremes of my sex   
Call it a day   
Call it a day   
Needle point life   
Call it a day   
Call it a day

  
  
He had first noticed in the ER.  
Through the window of the small room they had taken his partner to, he had watched as a young doctor had put stitch after stitch in McGarrett’s muscular thigh. Two layers of stitches it had taken to seal the deep gash and Steve had just sat there, stoically, or so Danny had thought until he had stepped closer to the glass.

Steve’s pupils were completely blown. First, Danny had thought they had doped him up good, before the “filed under wacky Steve facts” section of his brain reminded him that the man NEVER allowed anyone to put him under. Must be against the goddamned SEAL code to take the easy way out.  
He then noticed the way Steve was breathing, the way he languorously licked his lips every now and again.

You didn’t need to be a detective to figure it out, really. Steve had a thing for pain and specifically for needles. He seemed to get work on his tats done every other week these days and what used to be a charmingly idiosyncratic tramp stamp was now covered by new work that looked like it was intended to swallow the man’s entire back soon.

The other day, Danny didn’t even know why he had followed Steve to the bathroom, except the look in the man’s eyes had kind of magically pulled him there. The door could easily be opened with a dime and what had followed once he had been inside was nothing short of epic.

Ever since, Danny had had all the sex a red-blooded male could ask for – and more. Actually, Danny had a problem, if he was honest. He understood what Steve needed on an emotional and intellectual level, but he in actual fact had no clue whatsoever how to cater for that need.   


Everything they had done so far, Steve had initiated and the situation kind of shaped the acts. Danny was dreading the day when Steve would just walk into the bedroom demanding Danny to dominate him on neutral grounds, so to speak. Needing Danny to set the pace, to create a scenario, to lead, to actually be the D to his s.

Three or four times so far, Danny had tried to fess up. But how did you tell your needy, deep-dark-secrets-pent-up-to-bursting-point lover that your sex life right up to that day in the john had in fact been as vanilla as they came. 

Rachel’s idea of kinky had been to buy a pvc nurse’s outfit one Halloween and tell him in dulcet tones that she needed to examine his “problem” while waving with a plastic stethoscope. Calling Danny’s pride and joy a problem had promptly led it to decide to be pouty and not rise to the occasion. End of any further forays into the even mildly risqué.

The last time he had actually gotten as far as taking a deep breath in the car to spill his guts, the Eurythmics had come on the radio. If he hadn’t been so goddamn tense, he’d have laughed. ‘Don’t mess with a missionary man’ was just not the line he wanted to hear in the background when he came clean, so he just shut it and explored alternative angles.

Danny walked across the black and red room, the rich plush carpet swallowing the noise of his footfalls completely. There were three people waiting for him, a man and two women.  
He introduced himself and quickly described his problem and the kind of help he was expecting from them. It boiled down to one sentence.  
 _I need you to teach me to be a dom._

What he hadn’t expected, however, was the lengthy speech about how he needed to understand how to be a sub first, before these three would teach him a thing about what he had to know.  
Danny flat out refused. That was not what he had come for and even more importantly, it was not what he… thought he could stomach.

On top of that, he already felt guilty about coming here in the first place. It felt too much like he was cheating on Steve. The kind of lessons he needed would have to be hands on, he knew. It didn’t sit well with his conscience. Not well at all.

After minutes of heated discussions, the older woman said: “I will teach you. On my terms, mind you. But I will try to accommodate your… misgivings. Follow me.”  
The other two merely bowed their heads and left. 

Danny followed the woman upstairs. She was a well-preserved fortysomething, her dark hair tied into a stern bun, her well-rounded body bound into a black outfit, all leather, lace and metal. She led him to a room with various pieces of furniture Danny didn’t have enough imagination to even guess what they were for. Or maybe he had, he just didn’t want to dwell on it.

“There is a reason we insist that our future doms start out in the submissive role, Daniel. You need to understand how submission works to know which of your partner’s boundaries are, shall we say, flexible enough to play with and which will shatter when you apply pressure. And I can assure you, the one thing you do not want is to break your man in what you might think of as a game. It is anything but a game, Daniel.”

Danny swallowed. He recalled the raw look on Steve’s face. He knew his partner had been defenseless during those moments, fragile even. No, he could see how it wouldn’t take much to do damage to McGarrett. And he had no clue how to make sure he wouldn’t.

“I understand,” Danny said after a long pause, “and I am willing to learn.”  
The woman smiled at him.  
“My name is Victoria. You will call me mistress or ma’am. You will not speak unless spoken to, unless it is your safe word.“  
“What’s a safe word?”  
“’No’ or ‘stop’ or other words of protests might be part of the game you are playing. In order to recognize when things go too far for you, you will think about a word from a completely different context that will signal to me that you want out of the current situation.”

Danny thought about it for a moment and then said, with a slightly sheepish expression, “Mr. Hoppy?”

Victoria smiled briefly and nodded.  
“When I don’t give you any other orders, I want to you kneel on the floor with your hands behind your back and your head bowed.”

Danny took a deep breath, then frowned and mentally rephrased what he had been about to say.  
“May I explain something, ma’am?”  
Victoria smiled again.  
“You’re a fast learner, Daniel. Yes you may. Because you asked so prettily.”

“The real problem I have is that… that I can’t be unfaithful to Steve. He’s… important to me.”  
“If he weren’t, you’d hardly be here, would you now?”  
“No, most certainly not. Can you… can you teach me without… anything… happening?”  
Victoria laughed. It was a pleasant sound, warm and husky. 

“Ah, I forgot you actually have no clue at all about any of this. Between a dominatrix and her sub, there usually is no intercourse in the classical sense. In your case, I will merely make sure you gain an understanding of … let me call it the due process of such interactions. Your virtue, well, depending on your definition of sex, your virtue will probably remain intact.”

Danny was beyond relieved. For about five seconds, until it sunk in that he had actually let himself in for sex education in a BDSM studio. With a real life dominatrix. And that he had actually agreed to be submissive. Danny rolled his shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound, his gran had always said. God, no, this was SO not the proper place to nurse fond memories of one’s grandmother.

He sunk to his knees, wincing at the pain in his game one, and clasped his hands behind his back. He bowed his head, as he had been told.  
“What a good boy you are. And I didn’t even have to remind you. Excellent. I can see we will have so much fun together.”

He silently crept up the stairs and slid into the double bed, next to Steve. Good thing SuperSEAL was obviously in his R.E.M. phase and busy elsewhere. Good. Danny wouldn’t have liked to find an explanation of where the hell he was coming from at four in the morning. Especially not after successfully sneaking out on his lover five times already.

It had been their final lesson. He would’ve been home earlier, but Victoria had asked about specific settings in the end, about situations where Steve went… full tilt kink boogie. And she had pointed something out to Danny, something he hadn’t even noticed in his quest to accommodate Steve’s every need.

He understood the need much more clearly now and the last piece of the puzzle was actually the key. The angle he had been looking for.

Their case the next day took them to an abandoned, derelict fairground. The perp had fled into the funhouse. Steve’s long legs had carried Danny’s partner into the labyrinth of mirrors with a head start, leaving Danny to try to follow. Orientation was virtually impossible; at least every visual impulse was untrustworthy. In the end, Danny tried to rely on his ears rather than his eyes.

He found Steve and the perp in the middle of the labyrinth. The guy was on the ground; Steve was just clicking the cuffs shut. As his partner straightened up, Danny could tell the exact moment Steve consciously noticed the mirrors. He stilled completely, then looked at Danny. Danny nodded, mouthing “I know. Later, okay?”  
Steve went all business again; snarling “book ‘em, Danno” like that was all he needed his partner for.

Paperwork took forever and Danny could feel the tension in Steve mounting steadily, while he crossed his t’s and dotted his i’s on the umpteenth form. He was hyperaware of Steve’s every move, knew that the man was close to… well, exploding was the entirely wrong word. Steve only exploded over little things, meaningless things. Almost as if he did it to fake normal emotional responses that just weren’t there.  
Over important things, big things, Steve imploded. And meltdown was imminent.

Danny had insisted on driving.  
Steve hat complained, bitched, fretted, until Danny pulled on what Victoria had taught him and found the exact right phrase and tone of voice to make Steve comply without further protest. The self-same tone marched Steve into the house and up the stairs, but it wasn’t nearly enough to resolve the tension in Steve’s body.

When he saw the thing in the middle of his bedroom, Steve stopped short.  
A sheet was draped over it, but it was still fairly obvious just what Danny had retrieved from the attic.  
Danny pulled the sheet off the antique mirror. He positioned himself behind his lover and put a reassuring hand on the small of Steve’s back. His voice was calm and filled with authority.

“You will call me master or sir. You will not speak unless spoken to, unless it’s your safe word.”  
Danny paused. Steve breath had hitched and he had gone very still. Danny rubbed small circles on Steve’s back.  
“What’s your safe word, baby?”  
Steve whispered: “Mercury.”  
“When I don’t give you any other orders, I want to you kneel on the floor with your hands behind your back and your head bowed.”

Steve dropped to the floor instantly, head bowed just enough so his eyes could remain fixed on their reflection in the old mirror. His entire posture had changed, tension gone, as he settled into position.  
“Yes, master.”  
It sounded…. happy.

 


	3. Come on...strip me of my powers, beat me with your chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3rd part of the needle!verse. Just a short vignette, really, sadly pornless. Blame it on Billy Talent.

**Title:** Come on...strip me of my powers, beat me with your chains  
 **Paring:** Steve/Danny  
 **Genre:** slash, h/c  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 703  
 **Warnings:** Torture **  
Spoilers:** None  
 **Disclaimers:** I’d cook for them if they were mine. No, seriously, I’d be very nice, caring and… auntie-ish. Title  & quote Billy Talent, Rusted from the rain  
 **Summary:** 3rd part of the needle!verse. Just a short vignette, really, sadly pornless. Blame it on Billy Talent. 

Dissect me 'til my blood runs down into the drain  
My bitter heart is pumping oil into my veins  
I'm nothing but a tin man, don't feel any pain  
I don't feel any pain, I don't feel any pain,  
I'm rusted from the rain

Rain and blood mixed, running down his body in tepid, pink rivulets. He didn’t know where the absolute conviction came from, but he knew he would be dead within the next two hours max, unless his partner found him. Which would be a fucking miracle.

He needed to stay awake. There were so many drugs in his bloodstream that giving in to the blackness that was calling him would probably seal his fate. So he kept raking his fingernails over the bleeding gashes in his torso and on his thighs, letting the pain do all the work. And his old friend did the trick.

He lay propped against the burned out hull of a car. Water was gushing from the wreck into his eyes, but he was afraid to move his head. Dizzy as he was, he might lose consciousness when he tilted his head. Could be worse, he thought wryly. Same thing could be happening to him in, say, Jersey and the water soaking his clothes and stinging his wounds could be icy instead of lukewarm.

Thinking of Jersey of course inevitably brought on thoughts of Danny. He could almost see the other man rushing towards him, the rain messing up his hair something awful and he’d be shouting, shouting all the way. Probably cursing Steve for getting himself into this situation in the first place.

His hand ghosted over the cuts on his stomach, probing lightly as thoughts of Danny filled his head. Not of the Danny everyone knew, but of the Danny only he got to see. The Danny who gave Steve’s life structure, who took care of Steve’s needs and who excelled in it. He pinched the wounds and smiled.

He let his thoughts of Danny take away the memory of the knives slicing his flesh, all ice cold intrusion and red hot pain. 

The man with the dead eyes, who had kept at it, trying in vain to elicit a response beyond gasps and moans from him had only succeeded in driving Steve into the darkest room inside his head when he went from plain old torture to assorted drugs. The place where the worst memories lived, the place that would actually explain it all, if he would let someone see it. 

He pushed the door shut on this place and concentrated on Danny and the way only he could make Steve feel calm and whole and wanted. In Danny’s eyes, Steve wasn’t the kid who had been sent away, believing himself to be unfit for even a father to love. In Danny’s eyes, even the twisted and broken thing inside Steve was understood and loved. In Danny’s eyes, Steve could see a reflection of himself that he could stand to look at.

Danny would know what to do, how to substitute his own magic for the shame Steve felt at having been taken, having been violated by knives and… other things and not having been able to do a thing about it. Yes, Danny would know how to handle this, how to make it alright somehow. 

He’d give Steve the comfort of his body and the comfort of relinquishing control to someone who was a much, much better man than Steve could ever dream to be. A man who would never abuse the trust Steve put in him. The man Steve belonged with. Belonged to. 

When a hand landed on Steve’s shoulder, it tied in so neatly with his daydream that he just reached for the dripping wet tie and pulled Danny in for a bruising kiss. He’d be punished for it, he knew. He wasn’t supposed to do that unless Danny ordered him to. But sometimes, punishment had its own rewards and right now, Steve was past caring, anyhow.

This, this right here was the only thing that could keep the door to that awful place shut and Steve would not let go of what he now knew was his lifeline. His final, his only safety net between him and the void.

It was only when Danny broke the kiss, said his name and it sounded like a sob that Steve truly realized his partner had really arrived in the here and now to rescue him.


End file.
